


i'm so ready to be found

by demistories



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 07:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4555989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demistories/pseuds/demistories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Courfeyrac was generally a loud and energetic person didn't mean he always was. When he got in a quiet mood, usually he would sit in his room by himself and a few hours later, he'd be bouncing off the walls again. When he was sad, usually he'd wrap his nearest friend in a hug until he started to feel better. Courfeyrac wore his emotions on his sleeve, it was rare he locked them away. </p><p>Silently making his way into their apartment was unusual. Not drawing any attention to himself until he was stepping over Enjolras and pulling Combeferre's arm around him was unusual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm so ready to be found

**Author's Note:**

> title from when i go down by relient k 
> 
> warning for discussion of indescribable feelings. maybe there's a name for them. possibly anxiety? maybe depression? i honestly have no idea, which is why we're here. i personally go for emptiness. so warning for sucky feelings.  
> if i should be warning for/tagging something specifically, please let me know, because i honestly don't know and want people to be safe. 
> 
> unedited and unbeta-ed. all i own are my 1 am mistakes.

Courfeyrac inviting himself into their apartment wasn’t unusual. It was an accepted and expected part of Combeferre and Enjolras’ lives.

They had, in fact, given him a key.

Initially, they might not have expected him to use that key as often as he did, but at the same time, he was their best friend. It would be strange if he wasn’t always around. He was the friend who would break into one of their bedrooms in the middle of the night via window, the other in tow.

Since they’d given him the key, which was as soon as they were able to get a copy made, they’d seen nearly every Courfeyrac that existed walk through the door.

Ecstatic Courfeyrac, who would burst through the door practically singing and absolutely glowing. Frustrated Courfeyrac, who’s hair stuck up in all directions from running his fingers through it. Annoyed Courfeyrac, who was ranting before he stepped in the apartment. Drunk Courfeyrac, who stumbled in and giggled like he was twelve. Exhausted Courfeyrac, who dragged himself in and collapsed on the couch like he’d just ran a marathon, even if someone was already on the couch. Angry Courfeyrac, who fumed and snapped and wouldn’t be above throwing something or setting something on fire. Amused Courfeyrac, who smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. Distracted Courfeyrac, who wasn’t even entirely aware that it wasn’t technically his apartment.

This wasn’t any Courfeyrac they were used to.

Enjolras was on his stomach in front of the couch, rereading the same paragraph in his textbook over and over again, trying to figure out what it was trying to say. Combeferre was curled up on the couch with a book that he actually liked, lost in a world of fairies and life threatening quests.

Neither of them heard the door open. Neither of them noticed Courfeyrac slink in.

Just because Courfeyrac was generally a loud and energetic person didn’t mean he always was. Combeferre and Enjolras had known him long enough to know that. When he got in a quiet mood, usually he would sit in his room by himself and a few hours later, he’d be bouncing off the walls again. When he was sad, usually he’d wrap his nearest friend in a hug until he started to feel better. Courfeyrac wore his emotions on his sleeve, it was rare he locked them away.

Silently making his way into their apartment was unusual. Not drawing any attention to himself until he was stepping over Enjolras and pulling Combeferre’s arm around him was unusual.

Combeferre lowered his book as Enjolras looked up. “Courf? Is something wrong?”

Courfeyrac just shrugged and nestled closer into Combeferre’s side. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“Is everything okay?” Enjolras sat back and put a hand on Courfeyrac’s leg. “Did something happen?”

Courfeyrac shook his head then hesitated. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “For both questions. I just… I dunno.”

Enjolras abandoned his textbook to sit on the other side of Courfeyrac, pulling his legs up under himself. Combeferre absentmindedly played with Courfeyrac’s hair as Courfeyrac rested his head against Combeferre’s side.

Courfeyrac sighed after a few minutes of silence and just whispered, “I dunno,” again. “I dunno. I just feel…” He groaned and covered his face with his hands. “It’s like this weird empty feeling,” he said, his voice slightly muffled by his hands. “It’s like there’s a black hole in my stomach or something. It doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Combeferre said. He moved his hand from Courfeyrac’s hair to rub his shoulder. “Feelings don’t have to make sense.”

“But I want it to!” Courfeyrac leaned his head back against the couch. “It’s not even a feeling. It’s like this void that’s just sucking everything up and making me not feel anything. It’s not a feeling it’s like the absence of feeling.”

Enjolras hummed. “It feels like a part of you is missing?”

Courfeyrac nodded. “And I want it to stop! Or come back or just…” He slouched against the back of the couch. “I want to feel things again.”

“You will,” Enjolras promised.

“Just give it some time,” Combeferre added. “It’ll pass.”

Courfeyrac pressed his face into Combeferre’s side. “So this pit in my stomach is just going to get up and move out?”

“Eventually.”

“Eventually isn’t good enough.”

Enjolras scooted closer. “It’ll happen, Courf. Maybe today’s just a bad day. Maybe it’s a bad week. But it’ll get better.”

Courfeyrac sagged. “That’s what everyone says. ‘One day it’ll be better, I promise’,” he mocked. “I don’t want to wait for that One Day at some point in unforeseeable future. I want it to be better now.”

Combeferre squeezed his shoulder. “And we want it to be better now too.”

“I don’t want to feel like this.”

Enjolras and Combeferre waited quietly as Courfeyrac shut his eyes to sort his thoughts out.

“It hurts, but it doesn’t. It’s just like this aching? Maybe? I don’t know, it just sucks. It sucks so much. I want it to stop. I want a reset. A rerun. My money back.” He opened his eyes. “I want something different than this.”

“I don’t think feelings work like that,” Combeferre said apologetically. “There’s no return center for unwanted feelings.”

“There should be,” Courfeyrac grumbled.

“We might not be able to get rid of that feeling,” Enjolras said, “but we can offer blankets and hot chocolate.”

Courfeyrac considered it.

“We can watch a movie or something too. I’m getting nothing done.” Enjolras glanced down at his textbook. “A break is probably necessary.”

“I mean, I’ll try it but…” Courfeyrac ran a hand down his face. “I can’t settle on anything. I’ve tried. It’s not working. Like, I’ll get ten minutes into something and decide I don’t want to watch it. It’s too serious, or I don’t like the humor or I can’t get involved or it’s not carefree enough or it just doesn’t happen. I can barely get through YouTube videos. It took me like three hours to get through a single chapter of my textbook and answer a single question. I just want to lay on the ground and do nothing.”

“You can’t drink hot chocolate while laying down,” Combeferre said. “It’ll end badly.”

“You also can’t see the TV,” Enjolras added. “Want to try it?”

“It can’t hurt,” Courfeyrac decided. “Maybe it’ll like snap me back into my old self or something.”

“It’s fine if it doesn’t,” Combeferre said as Enjolras got up to go to the kitchen. “It’s okay if you’re feeling this way.”

“For you, maybe,” Courfeyrac muttered. “You don’t actually have to feel it.”

“You’re right,” Combeferre admitted. “I don’t have to feel it, and Enjolras doesn’t have to feel it. But we’ll be here for you and whatever you have to feel.”

“With an endless supply of ice cream, hot chocolate, regular chocolate, and mostly awful movies,” Enjolras said from the doorway.

“I wouldn’t promise endless,” Combeferre said.

Enjolras just raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Our ice cream supplies isn’t endless.”

“There is no war in Ba Sing Se,” Courfeyrac mumbled.

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “But really, Courf, we’re here for you. You and your feeling sucking void.”

“I want my feeling sucking void to get sucked up. Could a black hole do that?” Courfeyrac looked up to Combeferre. “Tell me about black holes.”

Combeferre just pushed his glasses up his nose and started talking. He moved his hands slightly as he talked. He talked about how you can’t actually see a black hole, how they were created, the strange things that happened around black holes, and different ways black holes were used in sci-fi, specifically, Interstellar. From there, he went on to talk about Interstellar and other dimensions and the science in the movie and then went on a tangent about gravity, bringing him back to black holes.

To Courfeyrac, Combeferre’s voice had faded to a comforting background noise. Then Enjolras was placing a mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream in his hands and putting Star Wars on. None of them were sure when it had become their go to movie. It had happened when they were kids, and it just stuck.

The familiarity of it all brought some ease. And for the next two hours and five minutes, Courfeyrac was able to ignore the emptiness eating away at his insides.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm projecting.  
> that's what this is.  
> projecting. 
> 
> i don't know. i need people like enjolras and combeferre right this second so yeah here we are. all i really know is that it's 1 am, around 12 i put on a sad 8tracks playlist, and tried to describe feelings. 
> 
> if you want to say hi i have a [tumblr](http://wearetheseven.tumbr.com)


End file.
